


Play Pretend

by afteriwake



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Eventual Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Kiss, Meeting the Parents, POV Molly Hooper, Post-Episode: s03e03 His Last Vow, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sneakiness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2015-10-05
Packaged: 2018-04-25 00:27:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4939690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock asks Molly to pretend to be his girlfriend for an event for a weekend, and she agrees, even though she’s sure it’s going to cause more pain when it’s all over and she has to go back to being just his friend. But Sherlock has an ulterior motive for making this request, one that delights Molly when the truth finally comes out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Play Pretend

**Author's Note:**

> And this was written for an anonymous prompter on my Tumblr, who left the following prompt in my inbox: " _Sherlock asks Molly to pretend to be his girlfriend for a meeting with his parents. His very bizarre way of asking her to be his girlfriend._ " I enjoyed writing this one a whole lot, I really did.

“I need you to be my girlfriend.”

Molly jumped. She hadn’t even heard Sherlock come into the path lab, much less come within mere centimeters of her. “Pardon?” she asked, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“For the weekend. My parents are expecting me to have a significant other for this soiree they are attending and I need you to pretend to be her,” he said. She took a good look at him and saw that he appeared nervous, which was rather unusual for him. Normally he appeared calm and collected in every situation she had ever seen him in, but right now he looked as though his entire world hinged on her saying yes. “Two days. 2,880 minutes, and then I’ll never ask for another favour ever again.”

She scoffed and turned back to her slide. “We both know that’s bollocks. We’ll come back and by mid-morning Monday you’ll want a body part to take home.”

“Please, Molly,” he asked softly, nearly pleading, and that caught her. She turned away from her microscope again and then looked up at him. “It’s…important, to me.”

“All right,” she said after a moment. “I suppose we should go over details, make sure we have our stories straight?”

He nodded, giving her a small smile, the real grateful look in his eyes. “Tonight at six thirty at Baker Street? I’ll cook.”

She was surprised. “You can cook?” she asked.

“Well, I had to survive before John,” he said with a shrug. “Just bring wine for yourself. Whatever pairs with chicken.” He turned and made his way out of the path lab, leaving her staring after him. That was a surprising turn of events, she thought to herself. It would be interesting to see how it all played out.

\--

She had never really spent a lot of time at Oxford, since she had gone to university in London and then stayed there for her career, but she had gone there from time to time for a few events and lectures that had piqued her interest professionally. It was a very lovely place, one that she could see herself making her home in if she ever gave up working at Barts and decided to get away from London. And she could _definitely_ see why Sherlock’s parents enjoyed it so much.

They had not even batted an eye at the idea of the two of them sharing a room, saying that they were both adults and that it was to be expected with as long as they had been together, which had rather surprised Molly, so she and Sherlock were in the room unpacking their things. At least it appeared they were going to have a decent sized bed to share, which she was grateful for. It had been a long while since she had shared a bed with anyone, and probably longer for him, and if they had space it would be less awkward.

“There’s dinner here tonight,” he was saying as he opened his luggage. “Then brunch with my mother’s colleagues where she can show me off tomorrow morning at the university, which unfortunately you have to attend as well, then an afternoon of freedom before the soiree. Sunday there’s the luncheon with the actual presentation of the awards and then the recital, but we can leave before that. I don’t think Mum will mind if we miss all the festivities.”

She nodded, taking the garment bags holding her dresses to the closet. “I don’t know. I wouldn’t mind staying for the recital, if we can. I miss hearing live music.”

“No dates lately?” he asked curiously, pausing in taking his shirts out of his luggage.

She shook her head. “No. My social life is a barren wasteland these days. I mean, every once in a blue moon I have someone come up and ask for my number, offer to buy me a cup of coffee or join me for my lunch, but it never _goes_ anywhere.” She hung the dresses up and then went back to the bed to take out her shoes. “I’m kryptonite.”

“Kryptonite?” he asked with a frown.

She gave him a small smile. “The rock that used to sap Superman of his powers. I sap men of their intention of having a romantic interlude with me. I’m going to be an old maid with a flat full of cats at this rate, only leaving to help you with your cases, or personal favours like this.” She began pulling out her shoes. “I suppose I’ll just enjoy this weekend while I can. Just remember, we’re supposed to act like we adore each other.”

“But I do adore you,” he said quietly.

She rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean, Sherlock. In a ‘more than friends’ way, which I know you don’t.” She took her shoes to the closet. “It’s the only way we’ll convince everyone.” When she was done she went back to her luggage and zipped it up before stowing it under the bed. “I suppose I’ll go see if your mum wants any help with dinner.”

He nodded and she made her way out of the bedroom, pausing outside the door when she was sure he wouldn’t see her. This was going to be hard, she knew. Not pretending that she adored Sherlock. No, that part would be easy peasy. That would be the easiest part of the whole weekend.

Stopping when the weekend was over, though… _that_ would be the hard part.

\--

Dinner went smoothly enough, she supposed. She actually quite adored his parents, and she ignored the guilt that they were fooling them with the charade that they were a couple. His mother had seem quite overjoyed that Sherlock…sorry, _William,_ she had found out through the course of the meal, much to his chagrin…had a girlfriend he was quite serious about who was, in her words, “quite lovely and intelligent and really, quite perfect for you.”

Perfect for him. If only he really _saw_ that, in more than a play pretend way.

He had taken his pyjamas to the washroom to change while she got undressed in the bedroom, and she had just turned down the covers on the bed when he came back in. “I should have asked if you had a side,” she said a bit sheepishly.

“Left is fine,” he said with a nod, moving over to that side of the bed.

“So I suppose it’s a ‘stay on your side of the bed at all costs’ type deal tonight?” she teased, slipping into the bed. “After all, we hadn’t planned on sharing a bed. You’d assumed your mother would put me in another room.”

“We should probably at least start the evening close,” he said thoughtfully. “My mother has her faults, and nosiness is one of them. We may have convinced her we have genuine affection towards each other at dinner, but if we’re sleeping at opposite sides of the bed she’ll think something is amiss if she comes in during the night to spy.”

Her eyes widened just slightly. This was something else she hadn’t expected, to be quite honest. She scooted more towards the center, meeting him there, and then after a moment curled on her side and set her head on his chest. When she shared a bed she found that was the easiest way for her to fall asleep. After getting himself adjusted to the position he put his arms around her and she relaxed, letting her hand spread across his chest and listening to the comforting sound of his heartbeat. “I know most people prefer to sleep on their sides, spooned together,” she said. “But…I like this position better.”

“I do too,” he murmured, pulling a hand away and running it along her arm. She settled in next to him, shutting her eyes, and she was nearly asleep when she felt him very lightly press his lips in her hair. “Get some rest, Molly.” Instead of replying, though, she burrowed in next to him and drifted off to sleep, wholly content for the first time in what felt like ages. 

\--

She woke up in the bed alone, with a note on the nightstand. _Mum wanted quality mother/son time,_ it read. _Dad’s here and he’ll make sure you’re taken care of._ She set the note back down and stretched before getting her dressing gown on and padding out into the kitchen. Sherlock’s father was there, nursing a cup of coffee. “Good morning, Siger,” she said brightly.

“Good morning, Molly” he said with a grin. “Violet decided that while she had her son’s undivided attention she’d spirit him away to putter around in the garden. William will be cranky for a bit, so you may have to lavish him with attention before the brunch.”

“What time is it?” she asked, moving towards the coffee pot.

“Eight forty-one,” he said. “My wife and son are early risers. It’s in their nature.” He took a sip of his coffee as he watched Molly prepare hers. “You don’t know that fact about my son personally, though, do you?”

She stilled. “I don’t know what you mean,” she said quietly.

“It’s all right, Molly,” he said, coming over and giving her a reassuring smile. “I know William’s been telling Violet tales about having a girlfriend. He wasn’t expecting to have to manufacture one out of thin air. So you’re a good friend to come to his rescue like this. And he needs that more than he needs a girlfriend.”

She relaxed. “Is Violet going to be too terribly disappointed?” she asked.

“Well,” he said, scratching his chin, “when she realizes she won’t be getting those grandchildren she wants anytime soon she will be, but she won’t be disappointed in _you_. She may put pressure on William to change his attentions towards you to something more romantic, though.”

“I bet he’ll _love_ that,” she said wryly.

“Probably not,” he replied with a soft chuckle as the door opened up and Sherlock stalked in, his mother right behind him. 

Sherlock had a hard set around his jaw until he saw Molly, and then it softened. “I see you’re awake,” he said quietly.

She nodded, lifting up her coffee. “Just getting some coffee before I started to get ready for the brunch. It starts at ten, right?”

“Yes," Violet said, a slight twinkle in her eye. “You don’t have to be there right at ten, though. It’s all right to be there fashionably late.”

“We’ll be there precisely at ten,” Sherlock said gruffly. “I suppose I’ll start getting ready now.” He moved past all of them to go to the bedroom, leaving Siger and Molly with confused looks on their faces.

“What was that all about?” Molly asked.

“Oh, nothing,” Violet said. “I just had an enlightening and somewhat unwelcome chat with my son, that’s all.”

Molly studied her for a moment and then set her coffee down, turning away from his parents before going to their shared bedroom. She knocked on the door. “Sherlock?” she asked. There wasn’t a completely verbal response, just a sort of muffled grunt, so she opened the door to see him lying on the bed, a pillow on top of his face. She moved to the bed and then sat next to him. “Sherlock, what exactly was the chat you and your mother had?”

“She knows we aren’t really dating,” he said, his voice muffled because of the pillow.

“Ah,” she said simply.

He pulled the pillow off of his face and looked at her. “Ah? I tell you that we’ve been caught in our falsehood and all you can say is ‘ah’?” he asked incredulously.

“ _Your_ falsehood, which I’m only helping to perpetrate, and yes, I’m only saying ‘ah’ because I had a similar chat with your father moments ago,” she said.

“Oh,” he said quietly. He sat up after a moment and ran a hand over his face. “This isn’t working out at all how I’d planned. I should have _known_ I couldn’t pull the wool over my mother’s eyes when it came to matters of the heart.”

“Why do I get the feeling I wasn’t privy to the entire plan?” she asked after a moment’s pause, looking at him with slightly narrowed eyes.

He looked down. “I had hoped by having you spend a weekend pretending to be my girlfriend I could convince you to actually _be_ my girlfriend,” he said quietly. “It sounds foolish, I know. In this area I have no expertise, no gift for planning, and I wasn’t about to ask anyone for advice because I knew I’d just be laughed at for concocting a girlfriend in the first place to appease my mum.”

She should have been more surprised, she knew that, but she really, honestly wasn’t. This was Sherlock. This was a man who, until fairly recently, shied away from human emotions and actual relationships with other people. Of _course_ his plan to ask her to be in a proper relationship would not be normal. She reached over and gently turned his face to face her, running her thumb along his cheek. “Our first date was dinner at Baker Street, the night we went over plans for this charade,” she said. “The second date was the next evening, when you came over with takeaway and we went over more plans. The third was the night after that. And last night? That was our fourth date. Bit early to meet the parents, but at least we know they adore me.”

He reached over for her other hand, grasping it for a moment. “And today?”

“Today will be our fifth date. Or fifth, sixth and seventh, depending on how interesting our day gets and how many different things we do,” she said with a smile. “And I have no problem with you introducing me as your new girlfriend. Just make sure your mum tells everyone we just started dating this week but we’ve been friends for years.”

“All right,” he said with a nod, grinning slightly. “So I suppose it worked out after all, then.”

She laughed and leaned in slightly. She adored this man, she really did. She might even love him, for all she knew. But right now, she wanted nothing more than to kiss him, to show him that even though he had come up with a rather convoluted and unnecessary scheme all for the sake of getting her to agree to date him it was all unneeded. She would have said yes regardless. “Yes, Sherlock,” she said quietly. “It all worked out.” And then she closed the gap between them and pressed her lips against his, and after a moment he let go of her hand and ran his hand up her back, cradling the back of her head and deepening the kiss. They should have done this a long time ago, she realized when they finally pulled apart to breath, cheeks flushed and wide smiles on their faces. They really should have done it such a long time ago.


End file.
